Das Alte Haus In New Orleans

The old house in New Orleans
Knows no sunshine
Only poverty wanted to be a constant guest
To call our place home

My mother sewed dresses, shirts, and blue jeans
My father was known as a gambler in New Orleans

A gambler was also his son
And in the game, he found his luck
So he lives day by day
And never comes back

Oh mother, you can help
I need your advice
You can surely forgive
The wrongs that I did

Only the dice and the cards
Should be my friends
But I’d gladly trade them for a day at home

The old house in New Orleans
Knows no sunshine
For me, it remains the prettiest house
Because that’s where I belong.